


Ruined

by Mochas N Mayhem (KoohiiCafe)



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: AFAB Main Character, Asmo too, BDSM, Bratting, Consensual Dubious Consent, Creampie, Dom/sub, Dream Sex, Exhibitionism, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Mammon has a tail, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Porn with Feelings, Power Exchange, Tail Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Wet Dream, XD, a bit at least, also, cause Asmo was ROBBED, cause unlike Solmare I'm not a coward, he deserves a traditional heart tipped tail, ruined orgasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:15:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28390749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoohiiCafe/pseuds/Mochas%20N%20Mayhem
Summary: It all starts when you're feeling a little bratty, and you decide to backtalk Lucifer. This was, perhaps, not thebrightestidea you've ever had. The First Lord of the Devildom, theAvatar of Pride, does not take well to brats. Hedoes, however, know how todealwith a brat.Hopefully you're ready to lie in the bed that you've made for yourself, because neither Lucifer nor the other six Lords plan on showing youany mercy.
Relationships: Asmodeus/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Beelzebub/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Belphegor/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Leviathan/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Lucifer/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Everyone, Mammon/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Satan/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 158





	1. Ruined

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pinepickled](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinepickled/gifts).



> Hope y'all are ready for a ride, cause _boy_ do I have one for ya! This fic came to be on the Obey Me discord server I frequent, inspired by [Pinepickled](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinepickled/pseuds/Pinepickled) teasing us with some very _mean_ Lucifer. I ended up picking up the thread when she left off, and then... proceeded to write almost the entire thing then and there. I've cleaned it up a bit, added a bit, but beginning aside, it's mostly untouched. While it's not entirely my usual style, I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Note: Main Character is female bodied, but is otherwise not gendered! If I slipped anywhere with pronouns, please let me know so I can fix it!

Lucifer plays with you for _hours_. Exactly how many hours, you’ve lost track, you’ve lost _all_ sense of time between the moment you decided to play a brat to the first-born and now. At one point, you might have been able to count… if not the hours, then maybe the _almost_ orgasms he’s put you through, but by now there’s been even too many of _those_ to count. Too many times his skilled fingers have slipped into your channel, his thumb expertly teasing your clit as he sought out the tender spot within you that made heated lust and desire _rush_ through you. Too many times he’s worked them expertly, _perfectly_ , driving you closer and closer, higher and higher- and then, _right_ as you reached the tipping point that would grant you release, too many times he _pulled_ his hand back, pulled his fingers free. Too many times he’s watched your empty channel clench around nothing, listened as what should be cries of pleasure are instead sobs of sorrow.

Too many times, he’s driven you to that edge and then _ruined_ any hope you had of pleasure, delighting in the way you begged futilely for mercy, for release, for him to stop, for _anything_ other than this endless cycle. He’s ignored your pleas every time, reminding you,

“This is what bratty pets earn for themselves with their ill behavior.”

Then he returns to his work. It’s not just his fingers that torment you either. His tongue is just as talented and skilled as the rest of him, and he teases you with practiced ease, working you up faster and faster each time as your sensitivity ramps up further with each and every ruined orgasm. He eats you out as you sob, a single hand on your stomach pinning you firmly in place; no matter _how_ hard you try, you can’t escape him, the pleasure of his tongue dipping within you, the pain of his fangs grazing your clit _just_ right, the ribbed texture of his horns against your thighs. And when he’s finished with eating you _out_ of your orgasms, he swoops your trembling, crying form into his arms.

He carries you to the opposite side of his wide, wide bed, and as he sits down on the edge, holding you in his lap, you realize there’s a mirror there that wasn’t there before. It’s set up perfectly, so that as he settles your naked body onto his lap, his hard cock jutting proudly up between your thighs, pressing against your slick soaked and sensitive slit, you’re both reflected perfectly in its glass. His eyes meet yours in the mirror; his head dips, eyes never wavering from yours, and grazes the sensitive skin of your neck with his fangs, sending waves of goosebumps down your arms. His breath is hot against your throat as he orders you,

“Do _not_ take your eye off the mirror, pet. I want you to _watch_ as I bring you to and then _take_ every bit of pleasure I can wring out of your body.”

You whimper. You nod. And then he begins anew, this time lifting you to align your dripping hole with his cock before he brings you down onto him firmly.

The torment is both better and _worse_ than before. Better because finally- _finally_ \- his cock that you so desperately crave is pounding relentlessly within you, he’s _finally_ filling you the way you _desperately_ need. Worse because, just like before, _Every. Single Time_ you’re close, he times it _perfectly_ , pulling out of you at the _exact_ right moment to make you _sob_ as your pleasure flies away. Every single time, he leaves you more and more desperate, trembling and sobbing with need and lust, _begging_ for mercy.

“Brats get no mercy,” he growls hotly in your ear each time, and then his hand comes down _sharply_ on your helplessly clenching and spasming hole, the pain too late to help, only making it all _that much worse_. Then, when he’s sure that it’s safe, his spears you on his cock once more.

You don’t know how many times he’s denied you. How many times he’s _ruined_ you and stolen your pleasure. How many times he’s spilled himself within you, mere _seconds_ before your oncoming orgasm, and then pulled out and spanked your hole, laughing low against your skin as you cry all over again.

Eventually, though… _eventually_ … Lucifer’s D.D.D. trills from the dresser, laid carefully beside his perfectly folded suit. He growls, the sound frustrated, but you both know that tone; the prince is calling.

He doesn’t bother pulling you from his cock; a gesture and wave of magic, and the device is in his hand. He _does_ slow his pace, fucking you _slowly_ now as he answers. You bite back a whimper as Diavolo’s booming voice sounds from the speaker, because you know _exactly_ how sensitive the microphones on a D.D.D. are. If you make any noise… _any noise at all_ … the future king of the Devildom _will_ hear you. So you stifle yourself as much as you can, biting down on your lip hard enough to draw blood as Lucifer mercilessly fucks you, his own voice perfectly even as he talks to the prince.

Lucifer takes his time on the call, although he in no way neglects you. Rather, he works you higher and higher despite his slow pace; he shifts enough so that he’s hitting that spot within you with _every_ slow thrust, his free hand slipping down so that he can stroke your clit teasingly. You try- _fuck_ knows you try- to fight against the mounting pleasure, to keep from coming until after the call is over, but he’s determined, and he knows _exactly_ how to push you. _Push_ you he does, _right_ to the edge-

He pulls out, pulls his hand away from your clit, and he robs you of your orgasm. You can’t help the sob of need that escapes you, even as your hand flies up to cover your mouth, your eyes going wide.

Diavolo had been mid sentence- his voice stopped the _moment_ you cried out. Silence reigns for one moment. Another. And then, you can hear him distinctly over the speaker, laughing brightly as he apologizes, but tells Lucifer that he still needs his assistance.

“Of course,” Lucifer answers, and then the call is over. His fingers swipe across the screen, doing something quickly, and then the D.D.D. drops back onto the bed as he turns his attention back to you.

He pulls your hand down from your mouth. He tenderly brushes the tears from your cheek, and turns your head to focus on the mirror again. Neither of you speak as he strokes his hand down your body, between your breasts, down your stomach. He stops just above your _aching_ hole. He tweaks your clit once, pulling a whimper of overstimulation from your lips. He laughs darkly, draws his hand lower. He slips a single finger within you, and begins to stroke teasingly within you as he speaks.

“I’m afraid I must leave you, pet; duty calls. Fret not though. I have _no_ intention of leaving you in want of attention.”

The words are a dark threat, matched by the look in his crimson eyes as he meets your gaze in the mirror. He continues easily, continuing to stroke you as he goes on.

“We’re going to play a ‘game.’ You are going to wait for my return right here, on my bed; you will neither leave it, nor will you be allowed to touch yourself or bring yourself relief.” He pauses, humming as you let out a particularly desperate whisper. “You are not allowed to come at _all_ , unless it is by _my_ hand. If you otherwise find release, for any reason whatsoever, you will be punished appropriately for _each one_. Do you understand?”

He pauses his stroking, waiting for your answer. When it doesn’t come immediately, he withdraws his finger to _pinch_ your clit harshly, only to immediately pull back and _spank_ your hole hard. You cry out, and nod quickly.

“I- I understand,” you stammer, your voice trembling. That shouldn’t be too hard, should it? You just have to… _not_ touch yourself. _Not_ give in to your desperate desire. You can do that right?

But Lucifer isn’t finished explaining his ‘game.’

“My brothers will visit you, one by one. You see, I’ve already texted them to let them know of our game.”

 _What_?

“There is a prize at stake for them, pet; a full day alone with you. They will have your _undivided_ attention for 24 hours, to do with as they please, to do with _you_ as they please. All they have to do is bring you to orgasm more times than any of our other brothers.”

Horror floods through you. Lucifer’s smirk in the mirror grows as he watches realization dawn on your face of what is coming. That _you will_ be coming, whether you want to or not. As a small whimper escapes your lips, he turns your head to kiss you and swallow it.

“Enjoy your evening pet,” he tells you, and picks you up off his lap to set you on the bed. “Behave. And remember: you are _not_ to come unless it is by _my_ hand.”

Then he’s gone, getting dressed seemingly magically quick and heading out the door. He leaves it open behind him, and you stare helplessly at it from the bed that you’re not allowed to move from.

You’re _fucked_.

* * *

It's a fight to start things off, each of the brothers _needing_ to get to you first, because whoever goes first will have the best shot of making you come the most; you'll be tired after that, after all. It gets rough _quickly_. This isn't just your everyday paper rock scissors for the brothers to make a decision, there is a full day with you doing whatever they want at stake. So they go at it hard. Well, everyone but Belphie, who flops down to sleep the first time he gets knocked back. He lays there. A minute. A couple minutes. The rest of his brothers are still fighting. Belphie smirks to himself and quietly slinks out of the room and towards Lucifer's bedroom. He steps through the door- half expecting a curse despite Lucifer's invitation- and there you are, just _waiting_ for him. You're not bound by anything except Lucifer's command and your _desperate_ desire to please Lucifer so that he will _finally let you come_ when this is all over. It doesn't take but a second for his clothes to come off, and then he curls up on the bed, grabs your naked, still dripping Lucifer's spendings form, cuddles you up to him, and drags you both to sleep. But of course, for Belphie, sleep isn't just sleep.

He's the Avatar of Sloth, and dreamscapes are _his_ realm- and, wouldn't you know it, wet dreams are part of his realm too. There's _so much more_ that can be done in the dreamscape as well, where you're not oversensitive and half sobbing with need, exhausted beyond belief. Well, no, he lied. You're still sobbing with need, because that's the _one_ thing he lets you keep in the dreamscape: the overwhelming _lust_ Lucifer has driven into you the entire time that he's been playing with you. What he _doesn't_ let you keep, however, is your memory of exactly what led up to this dream, or what it was exactly that _caused_ all that need and desire that's coursing through your veins.

He cuddles you up in the dream, no longer on Lucifer's bed ( _too much of a giveaway_ ), but now on the bed in the attic. Just another cuddlefest with Belphie, nothing unusual here. Except for how desperately turned on you are. He pretends to wake after you, yawning slowly. He makes a show of sniffing at the air. You flush brightly, because you _know_ that he can smell your arousal, and you would know even without the sly little grin he gives you. He chuckles, kisses you lightly, and asks, "Want some help with that?"

Of course you agree. Why wouldn't you? There's no reason _not_ to satiate this lust, to enjoy your time with him.

It's far too late when the dreamscape begins to go fuzzy around you both. Belphie has been _absolutely_ dedicated to making you come, as many times as he possibly could, all the while playing you for the fool he's made you in his realm. But it _does_ start to go fuzzy, and there's a muted yelling that's getting closer, and it almost sounds like-

 _Mammon_. Of course it's Mammon, shouting loudly at his brother. You're both _torn_ from the dream abruptly as the second-born grabs Belphie and physically _throws_ him from your sleepy grasp, from Lucifer's bed, and from the room as a whole. He doesn't shut the door, instead mutters a quick enchantment, the feeling of magic prickling over your waking senses. Belphie growls, stands, tries to come back in- and bounces off an invisible barrier.

“Watch and learn,” Mammon smirks, and then his eyes are on you. 

Whatever sweetness Mammon usually shows is gone in this moment; the demon looking at you through those gold-flecked blue eyes you love so much is pure predator. He strips, and crawls onto the bed... 

You're shaking. By the time he'd put up his ward, your mind had caught up to what had happened- what Belphie had _done_. And the delicious pleasure still lingering in your belly leaves absolutely no doubt that each and every orgasm he gave you in the dream, he gave you in reality too. And Lucifer is going to _punish you_ for **every. single. one** of them. And with the way Mammon is looking at you now...

"Sorry treasure," he murmurs as he crawls atop you, pinning you down beneath his taller form. "This is for your own good. For _our_ own good. I'm gonna make you feel _so good_ , and then I'm gonna get you _all to myself_."

He wastes no time after that, capturing your lips in a biting kiss that's all fangs before you can get out even the smallest protest. He kisses you _perfectly_ , with just the right amount of pleasure and biting pain; Asmo aside, he knows your body better than any of his brothers, because he has _dedicated_ himself to you. He _worships you_ when you're together, has memorized your every tell, every spot that makes your breath hitch and fire rush through your veins, every movement that sends a new wave of slick dripping out of your hole and down your thighs. He knows just how to angle his hips when he thrusts inside of you, even from the _very_ first thrust. 

You cry out the moment rhe kiss ends, but your usually worshipful lover pays no heed. When you struggle beneath him, trying to push at him, there's a glimmer of magic, and then he's above you in his full demonic glory; his tail slips up immediately, taking your wrists that he's gathered so he can hold them down with it. He pushes your thighs part, kisses you again, and drinks up your cries as he thrusts his hard cock into you _perfectly_ , immediately hitting that spot that sends stars dancing in your eyes. You shift, wiggle, but nothing dislodges him; he counters your every move. 

You're _so sensitive_ , so needy and overstimulated from Belphie's attention. Before you know it, between his kisses, his cock, and the bites he trails along every inch of skin he can reach, you're coming, and coming, and coming. He gives you no rest between each rush of pleasure, pushing on through each orgasm to see if he can double it, or triple it- one time he even drags it out a fourth time.

When Mammon's ward on the door fails, it's _spectacular_ , a show of light and magic bursting from a single demon's power. ( _Not that you notice, you're mid orgasm when it happens, absolutely lost in the pleasure._ ) What single demon is strong to break Mammon's magic, outside of Lucifer? Mammon is the second-born, the second-most powerful....

Except that, while he normally lies third in ranking between them, when Levi’s envy is in full swing- _and it is in Full Swing_ \- he’s _more_. And this time… He wasn't even this envious at the TSL quiz, because this time... **this time**... he's had to _watch_ as his scummiest of brothers repeatedly pleasures the person he loves the most, and 

" _ **It's not fair!**_ "

Mammon is torn from you, mid fuck, mid _orgasm_ , and Levi _slams_ the door closed behind him. You belong to _him_ , and he refuses to let his brothers have even the pleasure of the _sight_ of you like this. Your cheeks are tear-stained, your thighs _drenched_ with a combination of your own juices and _three_ of his brothers' cum, your chest is heaving with your every breath, and _why_ did they get to have you first? Why did Lucifer get to _keep_ you to himself the way he did at first? Why did Belphie have to _cheat_ and sneak off to claim you next? Why was Mammon so damn fast that he could beat all the rest of them to tear you away from Belphie? **HE** should have gotten you before them. 

But now... _Now_ this sight is all his. _You_ are all his. And he's going to fuck you within an inch of his life, and make you come more times than humanly possible, because _he's_ the one who deserves to get a full day along with you, and _only_ him.

You stare at him as he stands at the foot of the bed, staring down at you, all these thoughts flying through his head. You look for _any_ sign of the sweet, stuttering otaku who can barely look at you in even the slightest of skimpy clothing or cosplay, who gets literal anime style nosebleeds from the sight of you in cute outfits. There is none. The demon staring you down isn't Levi. It's the Leviathan, the third Lord of the Devildom, the Grand Admiral of the Devildom's navy, and he knows _exactly_ what he wants from you and what he's going to do to you.

His clothes come off with concise and efficient movements, his tail stripping him along with his arms, and it's all dropped to the floor beside the bed. Then he's on the bed, and then he's on _you_ ; you've been too caught up in staring at him, in _marveling_ over this new, _confident_ Levi, to worry about what comes next. Your breath is shallow, ragged and stuttering, and your eyes focus on his dicks as they're revealed. It's not the first time you've seen them, of course, but they're just as beautiful now as they ever are; in a way they more resemble his tail, or perhaps tentacles, than dicks, looking nothing like any human cock you've ever seen. It's hard to see in the bright light of the room, but they _glow_ , you know, beautiful blues and violets and indigo, and he has the same control over them as he has with his tail... 

His _tail_ , you realize, that is sliding up your naked body. It slips up your leg and between your thighs; it pauses briefly there, the tip of it flicking your clit _perfectly_ , and you cry out, your eyes rolling back in your skull. You don't see the way it dips between your soaking slit, gathering up the juices there, but you certainly _feel_ it. Then it slides up your stomach, right past your breasts; he gathers your wrists in his hands, and his tail curls around them to trap them firmly. You're not surprised though when, always longer than you think, the tip of his tail slinks down and finds your lips. Levi tweaks one nipple harshly, enough to make you cry out, and then your mouth is filled with his tail, filled with the taste of his brothers. His eyes glow a dark amber as he tells you,

"You're _mine_. Your body, your holes every one of them, your pleasure; they're all _mine_." 

And then he takes what is his. He doesn't know you near as well as Mammon, far too often too unsure and flustering to take the initiative to learn you the way the second-born had, but he makes up for it with how well he learns _now_. You are the _sole_ focus of the Avatar of Envy right now, in a way that no other being, alive, dead, or undead, has ever been or ever _will_ be. Your mouth is kept always full as he dedicates himself to learning your body as if you were Ruri-chan herself, as if memorizing every single inch of you and every one of your pleasures were the key to private backstage VIP passes to meet Sucre Frenzy. Sometimes it's his tail, letting his hands roam you, other times it's fingers, or one of his cocks- _both_ of his cocks. You learn _exactly_ how it feels to be stuffed in all of your holes not _just_ with one cock, not just with _two_ cocks, but with his tail as well, all at once, all together. And once he finds something that brings you more pleasure? He attacks it _relentlessly_ , as if fighting down a final boss in one of his video games, and he gives you _no mercy_.

In the end, despite all his efforts, despite all his confidence, despite the _many_ times he brings you to orgasm, you know he hasn't beaten his brothers. ( _Not that you tell **him** that, you don't have a death wish._) Not that that matters to you- because you still know.... Lucifer is, somehow, somewhere, keeping track of every single time you come. And you are going to _pay_ for every single one. 

He _is_ the first of the brothers to not be torn from your bed by another brother though. Instead, the door opens to admit Satan just as Levi's focus and his physical exertions have begun to take their toll on him. His breathing is unsteady and shallow, and when he turns to see the door, whatever look he sees in Satan's eyes has him pulling up and away from you. You're too tired to look up at this point, exhausted beyond belief, too overstimulated, and you feel ready to pass out. But you hear the third-born groan, 

"No fair! You can't use that, that's cheating!" 

You can _hear_ the smile in Satan's answer, just _begging_ Levi to push. 

"There are no rules that say that, now are there?" 

Levi hisses, but gathers his clothing and hurries out, closing the door behind him and leaving you alone with Satan.... and _whatever he's brought with him._

In direct contrast to his brothers, Satan seems almost gentle as he sits on the edge of the bed, turning to look at you. His smile is sweet in a way that you know, on him, screams **DANGER** , and he keeps one hand out of your line of sight as he brushes the other across your damp and heated forehead, tenderly brushing sweat-soaked locks away. His voice is equally sweet, as much a lie as his smile, as he asks you how you're feeling, if you're holding up after everything his brothers have put you through. You tell him, honestly, too exhausted to try hiding it even if you could, that you feel like you're about to pass out, that you can't _take_ anymore. Satan's smile blooms wider, and he reassures you, 

"Don't worry, I have just the thing." He brings his other hand up. There's a stoppered glass vial in his hand. The hand on your forehead slips down, to cup the back of your head and bring it up for better access. When he tells you, "Open wide, my dear, this will make you feel _much_ better," You don't dare disobey. He pours the potion between your open lips, down your waiting throat, and you swallow before he even has to command you. _Immediately_ , your exhaustion slips away, and you find yourself full of energy... yet still just as overstimulated as ever before.

Satan grins, watching as life seems to just _flow_ back into you. Your skin, pale from exhaustion, flushes to a healthier color. Your eyes light in a way that they hadn't been before, dulled by tiredness. You have enough energy now that you could go for hours longer, and both of you know it. His grin widens, fangs flashing at you, and then he pats your cheek before standing. 

"Are you going to say thank you, kitten," he asks as he begins to disrobe, never turning away from or looking away from you. There's a flash in his eyes that means you'll regret it if you don't, so you do, your voice weak despite your new energy. He arches an eyebrow at you, and asks, "Is that the best you can do? Come now, you certainly _look_ like you can do better." 

He's naked before you can answer, climbing up on the bed. His tail and horns glimmer into existence, and as he kneels over your chest, hard cock bobbing right before your lips, his tail snakes around one of your breasts, the hard points of each segment digging into your soft flesh as he squeezes. "Thank me _properly_ , or it won't be my brother's punishment that you need to worry about."

You don't even attempt to stammer out another 'thank you.' You raise your head to take his cock between your lips, and you begin to suck. It's the first time since all of this started that things haven't been focused on your pleasure ( _or the lack thereof, in Lucifer's stout denial of it_ ), but on servicing your lover instead. And you know- you _know_ \- that you shouldn't let your guard down because of it... but it's such a _relief_ that he's not gone straight to pleasuring and tormenting you in your overstimulation, and you _can't help it_. You let yourself focus on, as Satan has ordered, pleasuring and thanking him, doing your absolute best to let him know how _grateful_ you are even for this short, short break. 

You really should have known better. Satan comes down your throat, the first demon today to spill himself somewhere _other_ than between your sticky, messy thighs. As you swallow around his cock, gratefully drinking down every single drop he has to give... you feel something _other_. Not just energy, like when his potion had revitalized you... but _heat_. Heat and pleasure. Your cheeks flush hotly, and then your chest does as well, the blush sweeping down your body. Satan pulls back from your mouth. His gorgeous green eyes catch yours, and he chuckles. 

"Don't worry, kitten, that's just a bonus from the potion I gave you. Asmo gifted me the recipe for it, you see; when it's mixed with demonic semen, it has an aphrodisiac effect on the one who's taken it."

Fear spikes through you, primal and hot. And then, not for the first time, Satan lets his gentlemanly facade fall away. The eyes staring into yours are every bit as heated as you feel. His voice, when he speaks, is deeper than before, _darker_. Even the light around the two of you seems to dim as he tells you, "I am going to _ruin_ you." And then he _does_.

Satan takes you _harshly_ , as roughly as he ever has, as animalistically as he ever has. It would have been enough to bring you to orgasm many times over just by itself; now, revitalized and with a simmering, unrelenting heat burning you from within... Each and every orgasm he rips from you is almost _violent_ , and you scream your pleasure out louder than you have all day. Your throat is sore before long, your cries turning hoarse, but that doesn't stop him; if his widening smirk is any indication, he just enjoys that _more_ , and he redoubles his efforts.

You don't know how long it is that he fucks you. Fuck, you don't know how long you've been in Lucifer's room period; you'd lost any concept of time long before Lucifer had finished ruining your each and every orgasm. It feels both like an eternity, and then no time at all before a delicate knock sounds on the bedroom door. Satan growls and ignores it, continuing to fuck you hard, your hands caught and held with his tail. The door opens anyway, and Asmo all but prances in, humming cheerfully. 

Satan growls again, snapping, "Can I help you?" 

"It's my turn to take care of our lovely little darling," Asmo says, completely undeterred by the clear wrath in Satan's voice. He sits down on the edge of the bed, turning to watch with lust filled eyes as Satan continues fucking you. He's clad in nothing by a lacy pink robe, careful draping in the back of it for his wings. His tail, deceptively thin for all the strength it holds ( _really, just like the rest of Asmo_ ), slides up the bed towards Satan's thigh. "Not that I don't enjoy the sight of you fucking them silly, but there _is_ a rather important prize on the line. Now shoo, dearest brother."

Satan growls louder, swats the heart tipped end of his brother's tail away before it can touch him. His pace slows, however, the look on his face turning stormy. Sighing, he finally gives you one last thrust- his hardest yet, more than enough to tear a sob from your lips and push noticeably against your belly- and then withdraws from your hole. His tail slinks loose from your wrists, and he takes a moment to take them both in his hands, looking them over carefully. Satisfied with whatever he finds, he releases your wrists to stand and gather his clothing, saying as he dresses, 

"Don't think you'll have too easy a time of it, Asmo. The potion I gave them should be wearing off soon." Then, smirking, he turns and heads out of the room, closing the door behind him.

True to his word, you can feel the potion fueled fire in your veins has started to slowly cool; the energy that had preceded it, however, still remains, if somewhat lessened by everything Satan had done to you. You're not sure if that's a blessing or a curse. Asmo looks over you with a careful eye, and after a moment, understanding dawns in his expression. He rolls his eyes and comments, clucking his tongue,

"As if the Avatar of Lust would need aphrodisiacs to please the one he loves." 

He says it so casually that you feel your heart stop for a moment. It's not the first time he's said it, not by far. You love all of them, and they love you in return. But hearing it now, in the midst of the pure hell you feel like you've gone through, does things to your heart. And, well... perhaps the rest of you as well. He smiles at you, disrobing gracefully and crawling up onto the bed and over you with every bit of sensuality that comes with his Sin. He leans down, his words a faint breath against your lips. "Don't worry, darling. By the time I'm done with you, you won't remember anyone's name but my own."

Every single one of his brothers have all been _desperate_ , in one way or another. Even Belphie, in his dreamscape where you hadn't even remembered what was happening, had been driven and intense in his need to make you come. If you didn't know him as well as you did, you might have expected the same- or _more_ \- from the fifth-born, the one who bore the title 'Avatar of Lust.' 

He's not. He is soft and sweet, gentle and loving. Focused, yes, intense, but not in the same way the others had been. Asmo runs his hands down your body slowly, maps out your every curve as if he didn't already know them all better than you knew yourself, and he takes his time. You'd think that he had all the time in the world- and maybe he _does_ have more time than his brothers. There's only one more to go after this, Asmo doesn't _have_ to be in a rush to pleasure you, and that suits him just fine. 

His lips whisper across your skin everywhere he can reach, his fingers holding you, teasing you, tweaking here and there to give _just_ the right amount of pleasure. The tip of his tail tickles where it brushes you, pulling actual _giggles_ out of you despite everything the day has thrown at you. His wings flutter softly sometimes, just enough to cool some of your burning heat, dry some of the sweat that covers every inch of you at this point. His horn brushes one of your breasts as he nips and laps at the sensitive skin on the underside of the other, drawing sweet whimpers of need out of you.

He mouths a line down your stomach, leaving little marks from both nipping with fangs and suckling your skin, as he slips his first finger within you; the tip of his tail brushes your wet folds before finding your clit. He rubs circles into it, careful of how incredibly sensitive you are to the _slightest_ of touches at this point, listening closely to each and every cry and small sob you make- because you're _already_ sobbing. He's crafting pure hell with his touch, pleasure that is both **too much no more please no stop** and also **fuck don't stop please more _please_ more** at the same time. A second finger joins the first, and he presses, unerringly, towards the soft spot in your walls. Stars burst across your vision, for no where near the first time that day, but his gentleness with it feels... _different_. _Better_. More tears sting at your eyes as he slips a third finger into your channel.

He brings you to orgasm countless times with fingers and tail before he moves, shifting paces to bring you pleasure with his tongue. He brings you to _more_ countless orgasms with his mouth. And then finally... _**finally**_. He pulls himself up, hovering above you as he lines his cock up with your hole. He leans down, kisses the corner of your mouth. He whispers, "I hope you're ready, lovely." He pushes inside you _achingly_ slow. And then he makes love to you until you lose all sense of time once more.

You're almost insensate by the time the bedroom door opens once more, lost in the pleasure Asmo brings you over and over and over again. You're not fully aware that it opens to admit Beel, although you certainly notice the way Asmo brings you to one last gasping orgasm before finally withdrawing from your body. You take the moment to try to catch your breath, to try and ground yourself in a way that you haven't been since Asmo began. You don't really hear the exchange between the fifth and sixth-born; you _do_ feel the tender press of Asmo's lips to your forehead before his weight moves off the bed. 

What feels like an eternity later, but is likely no more than a minute or so, the bed dips beneath a different, _heavier_ weight. You turn glazed eyes up, and it's only _now_ that you register that Beel has joined you. He's smiling down at you, his eyes full of happiness, love... and _hunger_. Hunger enough to make you shudder, your empty channel clenching around nothing as your body remembers past times when you'd seen that look on his face. He chuckles, catching your anxiety, and shakes his head. 

"I don't care about the competition," he reassures you, violet eyes warm. "I can spend time with you another day. I just want to take care of you." 

But.... that look... you _know_ what that look means. Before you can ask, his grin turns a little mischievous. He speaks again, forestalling your question. 

"You're all dirty after all that. I'm going to clean you up." 

... oh. _Oh_.

He cleans you. Every. Single. Inch of you. He does it without water or shower or soap. He starts beneath your thighs, lapping with his powerful tongue at everything that Asmo had left behind for him- and you realize, belatedly, that as much as Asmo had eaten you out, he still left his brothers' spendings on your thighs, dripping from your hole, and then added his _own_. It's a feast for Beel, and he partakes of it with relish. The sounds he makes as he laps and sucks and nibbles at you, as he dives his tongue _deep_ within your hole, far deeper than any tongue should be able to go, burn your ears, are more erotic than words could tell. The _feeling_ of his tongue within and on you is even more so. Your hands bury in his hair, fingers gripping at the orange locks as tightly as they can; you don't know whether you want to pull him _closer_ or push him away, but really, you have no choice in the matter. 

You cry, and sob, and whine as he eats you out, as he laps you clean. The sound you make when he manages to pull an orgasm from you without even trying is almost inhuman, almost too high pitched for you to hear. You _cry_ , and Beel pulls back, looking up to you with a slightly guilty expression on his face. 

"Sorry," he says, and he even sounds like he mostly means it. "I couldn't help myself; you're delicious." 

Then his head dips back down and his tongue finds your hole again.

He pulls one other orgasm from you, one sobbing, crying, _wailing_ orgasm, before he finally shifts his attention elsewhere. He makes a study of your body, licking away salty sweat and bitter spendings left by his brothers on your skin, anywhere and everywhere on your body- because it's _everywhere_. Not one millimeter of your skin has been left untouched through this ordeal, and Beel laps at each millimeter not once, not twice, but at _least_ thrice, just to be certain. Sometimes more. 

Eventually, an untold eternity of pleasure and desire later, Beel pulls back, looking you over carefully- and declares you clean. He smiles then, kisses your forehead, and lays down beside you, gathering you in his arms. 

"Sleep," he tells you, and kisses your temple this time. 

Worry spikes through you. What about Luc- 

"I know I didn't tell you before, but I already talked to Lucifer. I'm not even in the running for the competition. I'm watching over you tonight instead." 

Then- and _only_ then- do you finally feel yourself relax. The day has been... heaven and hell all wrapped into one. You're _terrified_ of whatever penalties await you from your countless failures with the brothers, terrified and... perhaps a bit thrilled... You have no idea what Lucifer has in store for you. You can't even tell which brother won- too much of it all has become too much of a blur to specifically sort out. But for tonight... you're in Beel's arms, and he's sworn to take care of you. 

"Thank you," you whisper, and you bury your head into his chest. You feel him smile, can feel it in the way he kisses the top of your head, and then you find yourself immediately dropping off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much, first off, to [Pinepickled](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinepickled/pseuds/Pinepickled) for the inspiration that started this! If you want to see how she started this, check out 'chapter 2!' Definitely check out her other writing as well, it is _fun_! :3
> 
> As always, many thanks to my wife, [Gyhl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gyhl), who is my beta and who gets to put up with me shoving stuff at them and praying that it's okay. XD Many thanks to m'darlin' [PhantomFox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomFox/pseuds/PhantomFox) for helping beta as well!
> 
> If you're on tumblr, you can find me at [PanickedPansexualPrincess](http://PanickedPansexualPrincess.tumblr.com).


	2. inspiration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I said this was just following up on what [Pinepickled](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinepickled/pseuds/Pinepickled) started? Well here's the _oh so lovely_ writing of theirs that inspired my own writing.

Okay, let's start small. Smol. He ruins your orgasms whenever you're bratty to him

He could be curling and thrusting his fingers so expertly, bringing you so _close_ but then pulls out, maybe slaps your little hole a few times. No matter how much you whine and beg, he won't. He'll just keep making you cum and then _ruining it_

And don't even _think_ about cumming when he has his cock in you. He _barely_ preps, telling you to relax like the good little slut you are before just ramming in, maybe rubbing your clit once or twice before just fucking you until you cum, pulling out so you don't enjoy it, and then going back in. He won't stop until that filthy hole of yours is leaking with his cum and you're sobbing from how badly you want him to ride you through.

He _loves_ to spank your hole. Loves to hold you ass-first to a mirror and watch his cock pushing in and out, hearing you squeak and whine and beg to cum- and of course he'll let you- but he pulls out to watch your hole clench and spasm around nothing, like you're body was _begging_ him to put it back in and fuck it till bruised.

Maybe Lucifer has you wait on your knees or on your back holding your hole open until he gets home- maybe he asks his brothers to go get something from his room just so they can catch you- and of course, what demon would pass up the chance to fuck your little hole stupid? You're the house whore after all, it's practically your job


End file.
